AN: I'm like a sourpatch kid. First I'm sour-leaving you with that terrible ending, then I'm sweet-giving you a fast update. And I've already started on the next chapter which is gonna be good!

Vindication. That's what Mitchum felt as he observed Logan's reaction. He'd known his son's intentions with Rory were far from pure, and the utter shock and dismay on his face were proof of that. Of course, there was no way Logan would be interfering in their relationship anymore after this. It turned out going public had its upsides after all.

"Logan," Rory chirped uneasily. He did feel a bit bad for her; she cared too much about other people's feelings for her own good. But then again, if she wanted to make it in the journalism world, she was going to have to get over that, and now was as good a time to start as any.

Logan didn't respond to Rory's plea, he just started backing away towards the door.

"Logan, please…" Rory took a step towards him. Mitchum reached out to place a hand on her wrist.

"Pooh," he warned. He watched as a pained grimace crossed Logan's face and he turned and fled.

"Logan, wait…"

Rory tried to run after him but Mitchum's grip curled tighter, holding her back. "Let him go," he instructed.

Rory shook her hand free and turned to him with tears in her eyes. "He's upset," she cried, pointing towards the door where he'd disappeared. "He's in shock. We have to do something."

"He's a big boy," Mitchum rolled his eyes. "He'll get over it."

"I can't believe he found out like this." She rubbed her face wearily.

"He was going to find out eventually," he shrugged.

"How can you be so cavalier?"

"It's not that big of a deal."

She glowered at him then turned and stomped off down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" he dropped the binder he was still holding on a nearby end table and followed after her.

"I'm going to get dressed and go after him."

"The hell you are." He grabbed her again, pulling her backwards.

"Get your hands off of me," she cried.

He tightened his grip instead. "You're my fiancée. I'll be damned if I'm going to let you go running off after another man."

"He's. Your. Son!" she growled, her eyes full of ice. "God, you really don't give a damn about him, do you?" He'd seen her upset before, but never like this. And all over him. Was there more going on between them than he realized? He'd thought the non-platonic feelings were one-sided and that Rory was just naïve, and too nice for her own good. But now…

"And you seem to be giving a little too much of a damn. What the hell is going on between you two."

She didn't answer, just narrowed her eyes indignantly and tried to pull her arm free again. He held on tighter, his fingers digging little divots into the flesh of her forearm. She stomped on his foot. Her tiny frame wasn't capable of providing much force, but still, the shock of it caused him to loosen his grip just enough for her to pull free. He slapped her. How dare she think she could get away with that.

She ran off towards the bedroom and he followed after. The door slammed in his face and as he opened it back up again, she was scooping up her clothes and making her way for the bathroom. He tried to catch her, but she slipped through the threshold just in time, locking the door behind her.

Mitchum took a deep breath, trying to get control of his mounting anger. She and Logan were having an affair, he was sure of it. If that little bitch thought she could cheat on him…with his own son…

It took every ounce of his restraint to not pound the bathroom door down. Instead he tried to summon his best calm voice.

"Rory," he said. "Rory I'm sorry," he lied. The only sound that came from inside was a sniffle. "Rory, please, come out so was can talk about this."

"Fuck you, Mitchum," she replied this time, her voice cracking with emotion.

He ground his teeth together, his fist clenching furiously.

"Fine," he answered, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. "When you're ready to come out and discuss this like an adult, I'll be in my office."

He made his way back out the bedroom door, closing it behind him loudly so she'd be sure to hear. But instead of heading to his office, he stayed in the hallway, waiting.

A few minutes later the door started to squeak open and Rory's head peaked out. He saw the moment she caught sight of him, and she tried to hurriedly retreat back into the bedroom, but he was quicker this time, and he managed to push the door back open and follow her in.

She stumbled backwards, but then caught her balance and managed to dart around him and make another attempt for the door. He reached out, catching her by the hair and yanking her backwards. She cried out, falling backwards onto the bedroom floor. Mitchum lost his balance too and she used the opportunity to scuttle back onto her feet and dash for the door. By the time he got back up and followed, she was out of the apartment and halfway to the elevators.

And he was still in his robe. With an angry growl, he slammed the apartment door.

Logan stumbled out of the elevator in a daze. He made his way absently across the lobby as Jack, the building doorman, held the glass entryway open for him.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Hunztberger," he vaguely registered as he exited the building and the cold air slapped him in the face. He caught sight of a trash bin on the corner and made his way over to it, leaning down and finally letting out the contents of his stomach that had been trying to make their way up since the moment he registered it was Rory standing before him.

Holly fuck, he couldn't believe this. Never in his worst nightmares could he have imagined that Rory's secret, asshole boyfriend was his not-so-secret-of-an-asshole father. What could she have possibly seen in the man? Was it his money? Logan had never pictured her as a gold digger. If anything, she often seemed disillusioned by the displays of wealth he and the gang showed when they were out. And yet, what other explanation was there? She couldn't possibly have real feelings for him—could she?

He wasn't sure which was worse, Rory being the kind of girl who would sleep with a man just for money, or her actually falling for his father. He didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he wanted to forget.

Forget this night. Forget his father. Forget his whole damn life. He wanted to forget those piercing blue eyes. He wanted to forget that Rory Gilmore ever existed.

Logan felt a hand tap him on the back. He turned around to see Jack. "Are you alright, Mr. Huntzberger? Should I get you a cab?"

Logan shook his head. "Thanks, but no."

"Are you sure? There's an Urgent Care a few blocks down…"

"I don't need a doctor," he assured the doorman. Although by the time he'd drank enough to forget, he might.

Rory wiped her tears away as she stepped into the lobby. What had just happened? Who was that man she'd just fled from?

"Miss Gilmore?" A worried voice broke her from her daze.

"Jack," she replied in surprise despite that fact that he was always manning the door this time of night.

"Are you alright? Where's your jacket?" Rory stopped to survey herself for a minute. He was right, she'd left her coat upstairs. And her purse. Her hand went to her back pocket and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least she'd remembered to grab her phone off the nightstand when she'd tried to sneak out of the bedroom.

"Umm there was…umm…wine," she managed to come up with. "I spilled wine on it, and umm, we couldn't get it out."

"It's twenty degrees outside," he reminded her. "Didn't Mr. Huntzberger have something you could borrow?"

Rory shook her head. "It's fine, I'm fine, I just…" She needed to get out of there. She needed to get away before he got dressed and came after her.

"Is Mr. Huntzberger okay?" Jack asked.

Rory shuddered, but not from the cold. "He's fine."

"Okay, because his son was pretty upset when he left too."

"Logan?" she perked up. "Did you see where he went?"

"He wanted to walk," Jack told her. "He was headed towards the park, then he made a right on Central Park West."

"Thanks," Rory started to scurry past him.

"Wait, at least let me call you a cab," Jack called after her. "You'll freeze." But Rory didn't stop. She didn't have time for a cab—or any way to pay for it. She'd figure something out, but for now, she just had to be anywhere but there.

She tugged the sleeves of her sweater down further, bunching her frozen fingers beneath the hem to try to warm them. Every inch of her felt like she was being stabbed by a bazillion, icy needles. She didn't know what made her think she could catch up to Logan. She didn't even know how much of a head start he had. Time was a blur. She could have been trapped in that apartment with Mitchum for five minutes of five hours.

She still couldn't believe how he'd acted. He almost seemed to get some sort of perverse satisfaction out of having Logan catch them. And then, he'd really lost it.

She couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to try to explain away the warning signs. The way he'd always somehow manage to turn a problem back around on her. The way he made her question the validity of her own thoughts and emotions. The wine glass. The slap.

God, she was an idiot.

And Logan had tried to warn her. He'd told her she was in an abusive relationship and she ignored him. He told her his father was a narcissist who only cared about himself, and she didn't believe him. She'd made every excuse in the book for Mitchum Huntzberger while he gaslit her at every turn.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Logan's number again. Again, it went straight to voicemail.

She didn't know what to do. She had no money, no way back to Queens, no keys to her apartment even if she did manage to get back…And she was still worried about Logan. She looked down at her phone—the only tool at her disposal.

If she made this call, she'd have to explain. And when she did, she had no idea if the person on the other end would be even remotely inclined to help her. But she was out of options. So, she flipped the phone back open, and made the call.

"Stephanie," she greeted. "Thank god. I need your help. Have you heard from Logan?"

"So, Colin and Finn are still in Aspen but I called them and they said we should check McCoy's. It's this little dive bar he likes to go to when he wants to be alone," Stephanie said as they exited one of their more usual haunts. It had been about an hour and still Logan's phone continued to go straight to voicemail.

Rory nodded at the suggestion. She'd look in every bar in Manhattan if she had to. And at least now she had proper outerwear for walking around the city. Steph had brought her one of her coats to borrow. "When will they be back?" she asked as she followed the blonde.

"Tomorrow. They like to spend the New Year here in New York."

"Oh, that's good," she said quietly.

"What's good?" Steph prodded.

"That they're coming back."

"And why is that good?" Steph had been good about not asking too many questions, but Rory could tell she was getting impatient. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to confess the whole messy tale yet.

"He's just going to need his friends is all," Rory evaded.

Stephanie sighed. "You know, I consider you a friend, Rory," she said. "And I'm glad you called me. I really do want to be one of those 'no questions asked' kind of friends you can call when you're in trouble. But, I mean—there are going to be answers eventually, right?"

"Sure," Rory shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, there are all sorts of answers. 42! That's an answer. The answer to life the universe and everything," she rambled.

Steph rolled her eyes. "How about an answer to why you called me in a panic about our missing friend and I had to pick you up on a street corner with no coat, no gloves, no money, no ID, and rock the size of Alcatraz on your finger? Does '42' answer that?"

Rory fingered the band on her left hand through the glove Stephanie had loaned her. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Rory, my brother's legally blind chihuahua would have noticed that. You could land a plane with the reflection off that thing."

"Oh, right."

"And you weren't wearing it yesterday."

"No."

"Which means sometime in the last 24 hours you got engaged to a Rockefeller and instead of joyously celebrating with him…or her, or them—no judgment—you are wandering the streets of Manhattan looking for Logan after presumably having been mugged but left with your cell phone."

Rory stopped walking, shuffling her feet nervously. She knew she'd have to come clean to Steph. Even if she didn't confess now, she'd find out from Logan.

Stephanie turned to look at her. "You can tell me."

She crossed her arms protectively across her chest, her eyes trained on a stray cigarette butt by her feet.

"It's Mitchum."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What's Mitchum?"

Shallow, little puffs of breath visualized in the cold air around her as her breathing sped up nervously. "My…" she couldn't bring herself to say the word 'fiancé,' it didn't feel real. She didn't want it to be real. "My…person that I've been seeing."

Steph's eyes bulged disbelievingly. "But, umm, when you say Mitchum, you're talking about the guy from the deodorant, right?"

"Yes, Stephanie," Rory rolled her eyes. "The Deodorant Guy."

"Just making sure." The blonde held up her hands.

Rory finally looked up, tears in her eyes. "I was supposed to break up with him."

"No offense, but it doesn't look like you did a very good job of it."

"I went over there to end it and before I could, he started saying all these things I'd wanted to hear for so long. And for just a moment, just one brief moment, I let myself believe that this could fix everything. That all our problems would go away. Maybe I needed to believe it because," she shrugged, "because for all the havoc this relationship had reeked, I needed to believe it wasn't in vain."

"Oh, Rory," Stephanie placed a comforting hand on her friend's arm.

"I screwed everything up."

"No." Stephanie paused. "Well, yes, actually, but that's okay."

"How is it okay?" Rory cried. "Logan walked in on us."

"Oof," Stephanie grimaced uncomfortably. "Like 'walked in on you' walked in on you?"

"Ugh," Rory made a face. "No, I mean, we weren't…you know, doing anything. But I also wasn't wearing pants, so logical conclusions I'm sure we're made."

"Right, well…"

"I don't know what to do!" Rory threw her hands up in the air.

Stephanie scrunched up her face uncomfortably, "Look, Rory, I know you want to make things right, but honestly, I think the best thing you can do right now is leave him alone."

"But…" she protested.

"Seriously, no good is going to come from you confronting him tonight."

"But…" she tried again.

"Rory!" Steph insisted.

Rory pouted. "He's going to hate me forever."

"He might."

"Do you hate me?"

Steph shook her head. "I don't love that you hurt my friend. And I would be lying if I said this little revelation didn't thoroughly gross me out. But I don't hate you."

"You should." She looked away in shame.

Stephanie looked her up and down appraisingly. "We girls can be pretty stupid when it comes to men."

"You have no idea." Rory shuffled her feet.

Stephanie sighed, cocking her head to the side. "Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there…anything else you want to tell me?"

She glanced up, just briefly before looking away again. "No."

"Nothing about, say…what happened after Logan left?"

"What?" Rory asked indignantly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Steph shrugged. "Nothing. Just a question."

"Well, nothing happened. I mean, I wanted to go after Logan and Mitchum didn't. We fought. But it was no big deal."

"Okay," Stephanie nodded.

"It was nothing," Rory insisted. She wasn't sure why. She wasn't trying to protect Mitchum, not anymore. But she just couldn't manage to admit that the man she'd been with for so long, a man she had agreed to marry, would do something like that.

"Okay," Steph repeated. It was clear she didn't believe her. She should just admit it.

Rory fidgeted. "I'm still worried about Logan," she changed the subject instead.

"I'll check out that other bar," Steph promised. "You can crash at my place tonight." She started reaching into her bag.

Rory checked her watch. "It's okay, Paris should be home by now."

"Are you sure that's a good idea."

"To go home?" Rory asked pointedly. "It's usually what people do at the end of the night."

Stephanie seemed to want to argue some more, but after a few moments, she reached back into her purse, pulling out her wallet. "Take a cab, not the subway," she insisted, shoving a handful of cash into Rory's hands. "And this…" she pulled a small tube of mace off her keychain.

"What's this for?" Rory asked. What did she think? That Mitchum would be waiting to jump her outside her apartment?

Stephanie shrugged. "Just in case."

Rory rolled her eyes but took the spray. "Tell him how sorry I am."

There was no answer. She knew Stephanie didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep. She walked towards the curb, quickly spotting a cab and flagging it down.

"Call if you need anything," Steph told her.

Nodding, Rory got into the back seat, and closed the door. She leaned forward to give the taxi driver her address, but somehow, she found an entirely different address come tumbling out of her mouth. She didn't care what Stephanie said; she couldn't leave things like they were.

"Hey, sailor," a voice cooed behind him. "What do you say you buy a girl a drink?"

Logan rolled his eyes, pushing his half-finished glass of Poitín in front of the woman next to him and beckoning the bartender for a refill.

"Wow, way to make a girl feel special."

"What do you want, Steph?"

"I told you, I want a drink."

"And of all the gin joints in all the world, you just happened to walk into mine?"

"I called Colin and Finn, they told me where you might be," she admitted.

"Great, so does everyone know of my supreme humiliation?"

She reached out, squeezing his knee reassuringly. "Just me," she promised. "I didn't even know when I called them. All I knew was that something bad had happened and that she was worried about you."

Logan shuddered. "Don't mention her name."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "I didn't."

"Don't mention her pronoun, then. Don't allude to her, don't abstractly reference anything about her…" he ticked off the things she couldn't talk about on his fingers one by one.

"Okay," Steph held up her hands in surrender. "I get it."

"I just want to be alone."

Steph took a sip of the drink in front of her. She made a face. "Well, keep drinking that and you'll be in a coma all by your lonesome."

"I'm serious, Steph."

"Well that's too bad, because I'm not going anywhere." She crossed her legs, settling herself squarely onto the barstool. "I'll take a vodka soda," she motioned to the bartender, pushing Logan's moonshine out of the way.

They sat in silence for a while. Logan stirred his drink absently, taking occasional sips when his imagination became unbearable. Finally, he broke the quietude with a snort.

"What?" She swiveled in her seat to face him.

"Nothing, it's just…can you imagine the family get-togethers? Thank god we don't do holidays."

Steph shook her head. "She's not going to go through with it."

Logan scoffed. "Did she tell you that? Because I've heard it before."

"Logan—"

"Don't you dare defend her," he cut her off.

"It's just…you know your father—how he can be when he sets his sights on something."

"I said, 'don't'," Logan snarled.

"Okay," Steph conceded, turning back away.

There was silence again for a few seconds and then, suddenly, Logan stood up. "I gotta get out of here."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Downtown? Jersey? Amsterdam? Just…anywhere but here," he informed her.

"You shouldn't be alone."

"I'm a big boy, I don't need a babysitter."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a friend."

"Yeah, well, my last attempt at making friends didn't turn out so well, so…"

"Well, that's because you wanted to sleep with her. Do you want to sleep with me?"

"No offense, but eww."

"No offense taken," Steph laughed.

"I'll be fine," he assured her.

"You better be. Because if I get a call that you're in the hospital with alcohol poisoning, I'll be pretty peeved."

"Well we wouldn't want that," he laughed, something almost resembling a smile crossing his face.

"No, we wouldn't," Steph agreed sternly.

"I promise," he nodded succinctly.

She sighed. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

Logan rolled his eyes, but inside, he was glad—well not glad per se. Glad was still a long way off. But he felt a little better knowing he had a friend, even if her loyalties were slightly split. "Thanks," he admitted. And with that, he went back out into the cold.

AN: Eek, things with Mitchum did not go well. At least she's finally come to her senses (for real this time). But where is she headed? And what will she do when she gets there? And how much do you think Stephanie actually knows about Mitchum? And what do you think will happen the next time Rory and Logan see each other? As always, I love reading your reviews and hearing all your theories, so let me have 'em!